My smile dissolves. This is what I don’t know. This is the shadow that hangs over us.

Kinky fuckery, yes, I can do that, but more?

My subconscious stares at me blankly, for once offering no snarky words of wisdom. I

head back to my bedroom to dress.

Christian is downstairs getting ready, doing whatever he’s doing, so I have the bed-

room to myself. As well as all the dresses in the closet, I have drawers full of new under-

wear. I select a black bustier corset creation with a price tag of five hundred forty dollars. It

has silver trim like filigree and the briefest of panties to match. Thigh-high stockings, too,

in a natural color, so fine, pure silk. Wow, they feel . . . slinky . . . and kind of hot . . . yeah.

I am reaching for the dress when Christian enters unannounced. Whoa, you could

knock!He stands immobilized, staring at me, gray eyes glimmering, hungrily. I blush crim-

son everywhere, it feels. He is wearing a white shirt and black suit pants, the neck of his

shirt is open. I can see the lipstick line still in place, and he’s still staring.

“Can I help you, Mr. Grey? I assume there is some purpose to your visit other than to

gawk mindlessly at me.”

“I am rather enjoying my mindless gawk, thank you, Miss Steele,” he murmurs darkly,

stepping further into the room and drinking me in. “Remind me to send a personal note of

thanks to Caroline Acton.”

I frown. Who the hell is she?

“The personal shopper at Neiman’s,” he says, spookily answering my unspoken ques-

tion.“Oh.”

“I’m quite distracted.”

“I can see that. What do you want, Christian?” I give him my no-nonsense stare.

He retaliates with his crooked smile and pulls the silver ball egg-things from his pock-

et, stopping me in my tracks. Holy shit! He wants to spank me? Now? Why?

“It’s not what you think,” he says quickly.

“Enlighten me,” I whisper.

“I thought you could wear these tonight.”

And the implications of that sentence hang between us as the idea sinks in.

“To this event?” I’m shocked.

He nods slowly, his eyes darkening.

Oh my.

“Will you spank me later?”

“No.”

For a moment, I feel a tiny fleeting stab of disappointment.

He chuckles. “You want me to?”

I swallow. I just don’t know.

“Well, rest assured I am not going to touch you like that, not even if you beg me.”

Oh! This is news.

“Do you want to play this game?” he continues, holding up the balls. “You can always

take them out if it’s too much.”

I gaze at him. He looks so wickedly tempting—unkempt, recently fucked hair, dark

eyes dancing with erotic thoughts, that beautiful sculptured mouth, lips raised in a sexy,

amused smile.

“Okay,” I acquiesce softly. Hell, yes!My inner goddess has found her voice and is

shouting from the rooftops.

“Good girl,” Christian grins. “Come here, and I’ll put them in, once you’ve put your

shoes on.”

My shoes? I turn and glance at the dove gray suede stilettos that match the dress I’ve

chosen to wear.

Humor him!my inner goddess barks at me.

He holds out his hand to support me while I step into the Christian Louboutin shoes, a

steal at three-thousand two hundred ninety-five dollars. I must be at least five inches taller

now. He leads me to the bedside and doesn’t sit, but walks over to the only chair in the room.

Picking it up, he carries it over and places it in front of me.

“When I nod, you bend down and hold on to the chair. Understand?” His voice is

husky.

“Yes.”

“Good. Now open your mouth,” he orders, his voice still low.

I do as I’m told, thinking that he’s going to put the balls in my mouth again to lubricate

them. No, he slips his index finger in.

Oh . . .

“Suck,” he says. I reach up and clasp his hand, holding him steady, and do as I’m

told—see, I can be obedient, when I want.

He tastes of soap . . . hmm.I suck hard, and I’m rewarded when his eyes widen and his

lips part as he inhales. I’m not going to need any lubricant at this rate. He puts the balls in

his mouth as I fellate his finger, twirling my tongue round it. When he tries to withdraw it,

I clamp my teeth down.

He grins then shakes his head, admonishing me, so I let go. He nods, and I bend down

and grasp the sides of the chair. He moves my panties to one side and very slowly slides

a finger into me, circling leisurely, so I feel him, on all sides. I can’t help the moan that

escapes from my lips.

He withdraws his finger briefly and with tender care, inserts the balls one at a time,

pushing them deep inside me. Once they are in position, he smoothes my panties back into

place and kisses my backside. Running his hands up each of my legs from ankle to thigh,

he gently kisses the top of each thigh where my hold-ups finish.

“You have fine, fine legs, Miss Steele,” he murmurs.

Standing, he grasps my hips and pulls my behind against him so I feel his erection.

“Maybe I’ll have you this way when we get home, Anastasia. You can stand now.”

I feel giddy, beyond aroused as the weight of the balls push and pull inside me. Leaning

down from behind me Christian kisses my shoulder.

“I bought these for you to wear to last Saturday’s gala.” He puts his arm around me and

holds out his hand. In his palm rests a small red box with Cartierinscribed on the lid. “But

you left me, so I never had the opportunity to give them to you.”

Oh!

“This is my second chance,” he murmurs, his voice stiff with some unnamed emotion.

He’s nervous.

Tentatively, I reach for the box and open it. Inside shines a pair of drop earrings. Each

has four diamonds, one at the base, then a gap, then three perfectly spaced diamonds hang-

ing one after the other. They’re beautiful, simple, and classic. What I would choose myself,

if I were ever given the opportunity to shop at Cartier.

“They’re lovely,” I whisper, and because they are second-chance earrings, I love them.

“Thank you.”

He relaxes against me as the tension leaves his body, and he kisses my shoulder again.

“You’re wearing the silver satin dress?” he asks.

“Yes? Is that okay?”

“Of course. I’ll let you get ready.” He heads out the door without a backward glance.

I have entered an alternate universe. The young woman staring back at me looks worthy of

a red carpet. Her strapless, floor-length, silver satin gown is simply stunning. Maybe I’ll

write to Caroline Acton myself. It’s fitted and flatters what little curves I have.

My hair falls in soft waves around my face, spilling over my shoulders to my breasts. I

tuck one side behind my ear, revealing my second-chance earrings. I have kept my makeup

to a minimum, a natural look. Eyeliner, mascara, a little pink blush, and pale pink lipstick.

I don’t really need the blush. I am slightly flushed from the constant movement of the

silver balls. Yes, they’ll guarantee I have some color in my cheeks tonight. Shaking my

head at the audacity of Christian’s erotic ideas, I lean down to collect my satin wrap and

silver clutch purse and go in search of my Fifty Shades.

He is talking to Taylor and three other men in the hallway, his back to me. Their sur-

prised, appreciative expressions alert Christian to my presence. He turns as I stand and wait

awkwardly.

Holy cow!My mouth dries. He looks stunning . . . Black dinner suit, black bow tie, and

his expression as he gazes at me is one of awe. He strolls toward me and kisses my hair.

“Anastasia. You look breathtaking.”